


Honest, let's make this night last forever

by Pansexualweirdo



Series: The adventures of Groffiong™ [2]
Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Adam's Bad At Bowling, Adam's POV, Attempt at Humor, Canon Compliant, Dialogue Heavy, Eric Will Teach Him, Established Relationship, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, It's okay though, Kissing, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Post-Canon, Romance, bowling, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pansexualweirdo/pseuds/Pansexualweirdo
Summary: “Go on a date with me.”His cheeks darken considerably and he blinks his long eyelashes at me.“A date?”“Yes, Tromboner. A date. You know, one of those romantic get-togethers that couples do?”Or; Adam and Eric go on their first date, and Adam's determined to work up the courage to kiss Eric in public. Will he succeed?Can be read as a follow up to my previous fic "I want to hold your hand (amongst other things" but works just as well as a stand-alone. Written in Adam's POV, first-person style. Title from Blink 182's song "First Date". Enjoy! <3
Relationships: Eric Effiong & Adam Groff, Eric Effiong/Adam Groff
Series: The adventures of Groffiong™ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617100
Comments: 12
Kudos: 195





	Honest, let's make this night last forever

It’s been about two weeks now since I asked Eric Effiong to hold my hand. Two weeks since I, Adam Groff, confessed my feelings to my long-time crush and had them returned, since I walked through the corridor of the school, hand in hand with said crush, like I’ve been wanting to do for far too long now. Which was everything I had imagined it to be, yet better than any fantasy I could come up with. It was surreal, Eric walking by my side, his warm hand in mine, gently squeezing, as he smiled shyly at me. It was at that very moment that I realized the most soppy, most cringe-worthy of facts: I didn’t need anything else in life. Holding Eric Effiong’s hand could be the only accomplishment I’ve ever made, and I’d still be proud of the life I’ve lived.

However, this doesn’t mean that I’m gonna stop at public hand-holding. No, no, that isn’t an option. After almost two whole, regretful years of bullying my crush and practically another _fourth_ of denying my feelings and handling the situation terribly, I have a lot to make up for. Eric deserves the best of me, he deserves to be taken care of and cherished. Something that lingers in the back of my mind is that he deserves a fuck ton better than _me_ , but I immediately shake that off. That’s exactly the type of shit that almost robbed me of my shot with Eric.

No, there’s no room for self-pitying anymore. It’s time to start making up for my shitty behavior. To show Eric that I can give him anything that Rahim can, and a whole lot more - not that it’s a competition.

So when Eric stands on the front porch of my home, wearing one of his many colorful shirts that makes my eyes hurt, blue eyeliner and a smile, I pull him in for a fervent kiss. He squeaks against my lips in surprise, but quickly melts into the kiss, his arms coming round my neck. When I pull back, he’s flushed, his eyes half-lidded, and the amount of pride I have for being the one cause of that is immeasurable.

“Hi... Adam. You’re cheerful.”

“Don’t have a reason not to be,” I shrug, stepping aside to let Eric in, and I close the door after him.

I can hear eager steps closing in and know what’s coming next.

“You didn’t tell me we had guests, Sweetie, I would have- Oh! Oh, you must be the Eric I’ve heard so much about.”

Right. This is the first time Eric is at my house. I probably should’ve told mum beforehand. That way, I could have prevented her from saying stuff like ‘I’ve heard so much about you’. Nonetheless, Eric takes the greeting swimmingly well, stretching his arms out to invite her for a hug.

“The one and only. And you must be the lovely Ms. Groff.”

“Oh!” squeals my mum and practically leaps into Eric’s arms.

She holds onto him for a bit too long. I clear my throat.

“Mum.”

Then she finally lets go of him, but not before giving him the two courtesy pats on his back, evidently overjoyed with having been addressed Ms. rather than Mrs. Which I get, but this is just awkward.

“Pleasure to meet you, Eric.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Groff.” Eric beams and I have to look away, he’s shining so bright.

My mum nudges me in the side.

“You’re caught yourself a charmer, Adam, haven’t you?”

I hesitate before answering, but when Eric’s eyes meet mine, the response comes naturally.

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

A flustered smile occupies Eric’s features and I feel one of my own curling at the corners of my mouth. Mum clears her throat to successfully snap us both out of it. 

“Well, I’ll leave you boys to it. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

It’s first when she’s gone again that I can exhale.

“Sorry about her-"

“Your mom’s such a sweetheart!”

We both talk at the same time and I shut up, a grin forming on my face as Eric starts to giggle. Man, he’s way too cute.

“So… What do you want to do?”

Well, now’s showtime. I grab hold of Eric’s hand, twining our fingers together. It’s all still so new to me, but it feels right, so there’s no doubt in my mind when I speak my thoughts aloud.

“Go on a date with me.”

His cheeks darken considerably and he blinks his long eyelashes at me.

“A date?”

“Yes, Tromboner. A date. You know, one of those romantic get-togethers that couples do?” '

Eric gives me a _look_.

“I know what a date is, Adam. But… when?”

“Now,” I smile, and Eric just blinks. I think I broke him.

“Now? As in _now_ , now? But I’m not properly dressed, and I haven’t seen your house yet!”

“You look great. In fact, you could wear a fucking garbage bag and you’d still look better than most people in this town.”

It’s not even a lie. My mom cuts in with an “Adam, language!” from the living room, obviously listening in to the conversation.

“Sorry, mom!” I yell back, still watching Eric, inspecting every movement he makes and every face he pulls to find any sign that he may not want to do this.

I can’t find any. All I can find is a sincerely flustered expression on Eric’s face.

“Come on, we don’t have to do anything fancy, and you can choose the place. What do you say?”

There’s a brief moment of silence, where a cold shiver goes down my spine and I wonder if I’ve been mistaken, but then Eric smiles.

“Fine. Then you’re taking me bowling. And I’m seeing your room first.”

“Deal.”

* * *

A house tour and a snogging session later, we’re at the town’s bowling alley, as I had promised Eric. I haven’t been here for years, but I don’t tell him that.

“Just a heads up, but I’m gonna crush you,” is what I say instead, although that’s highly unlikely, and Eric seems to agree with me, because he’s snickering, tying his shoelaces on a pair of those God awful bowling shoes you have to wear.

Oddly enough, they match his outfit pretty well.

“Oh yeah? We’ll just have to see about that, Adam.~ You don’t want to know how many times I’ve been here with Otis, I’m a pro!”

I pretend like I’m still confident, picking out a ball to use for our game, but in reality, I’m worried _I_ might be the one getting crushed here. When I call for Eric to come put his name down on the screen, I see he’s still staring at the variety of bowling balls, (probably searching for the gayest color he can find) so I write something down for him, smirking at my own wit. Eric turns to me with a hot pink bowling ball in hand - I knew it - and spots the name for ‘player one’ on the big screen in the ceiling. He raises a brow, unimpressed, but I can see the hint of a smile playing on his lips as well, giving him away.

“‘Trombona‘? _Really_? That’s the most British spelling I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly spell it ‘e r’, could I? There’re kids here,” I justify, and Eric glances around him to see what I’m talking about.

There’s a group of preteens hanging out at the lane on the far right, and they’re too busy goofing off to notice a sexual innuendo on our screen, but _still_. Furthermore, I like this spelling better. I’m just happy Eric took the nickname-turned pet name the right way. I would never use it if I knew it made him uncomfortable, of course.

“Yeah, I’m sure that spelling will help. If that’s my name then you’ve got to let me choose yours.”

“Fair enough,” I smile as he brushes past me to type something down, and I patiently wait till he tells me to look.

When he does, I immediately burst into laughter. Which, I think, for the first time in my life, I let myself do properly, without giving a fuck about who might be watching. It feels incredibly freeing.

“Wanker?!”

“Turnabout’s fair play, Groff. Are you ready to make good on your promise, then? Crushing me or whatever?” teases Eric, almost as if he _knows_ that I’m, in fact, _not_ gonna crush him.

But that’s impossible.

“Actually, you’re player number one, so you’re up first, Trombona.”

“I see how it is. You wanna get a taste of my impeccable bowling skills so you can learn a thing or two, yeah?”

I take a seat on one of the plasticky sofas, avoiding Eric’s twinkling eyes to restrain myself from kissing him already. _Not yet..._

“Whatever you say, man. With that cocky attitude, you’ve got a lot to own up to, so get to work.”

“Alright, alright. Watch the pro in action.”

Eric backs up a few steps, readying his shot, and moves forward, light on his feet as he hurls the ball forth, sending it spinning down the lane in a straight line. He knocks down seven pins on his first go and I swallow, I’m toast.

“Seven? I thought I was witnessing the pro in action?”

“Ever heard of a spare, Adam? Art takes time. Besides, I’m going easy on you for the first few rounds.”

“Sure,” I agree.

Eric’s hot pink ball rolls up the return and he shoots down the remaining three pins on the deck. At this point, I’m sweating. Not that I let that show. I stand up, patting Eric on the back as we pass each other, and I pick up my ball with slightly trembling hands.

“Not too bad.”

“Uh-huh. We’ll see if you can do better, hotshot.”

I can’t tell if our banter helps or makes it worse, but now I’m standing in front of the lane with a ball in my hands and I swear, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Why do I gotta boast about shit I don’t know anything about? I’m digging my own grave here.

All right, I know the basics, I just watched Eric go, I should be fine. You just back up, line up your shot and shoot. Right? I do just that, but make the mistake of looking back at Eric, whose eyes are locked on me.

“Yeah? You stuck or something?”

“Shut up,” I hiss back, directing my attention to the pins again, and I take a deep breath, leaping forward and sending the ball rolling.

It instantly hits the gutter, going all the way down without as much as touching any of the pins. A painful silence falls over what feels like the entire bowling alley, and I stand there in my shame. Serves me right, doesn’t it?

Eric’s hand is suddenly on my shoulder and I flinch.

“You want some help, big guy?”

“I’m a fraud.”

“Maybe, but at least you’re staying true to your screen name.”

His doesn’t carry any malice at all, it’s rather soft this close to my ear, actually, and it makes me feel a little better about the whole thing. I look up at the screen and see my given name in bold letters, taunting me with my score.

‘Wanker: 0 points’

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I’ll show you the ropes. Get your ball for me.”

He’s being awfully forgiving. 

Mute, I obey him, fetching my ball and staring daggers into it, blaming it for my failures. Then, Eric’s arms are around me, guiding me on how to hold it properly. My breath is lodged in my throat when he speaks, close to my ear.

“You just gotta relax. It’s a date, not the world championship of bowling,” He whispers, playfulness bleeding into his voice, and he squeezes my stiff shoulders to prove his point.

His body warmth is seeping through my back. With clenched jaws, I mutter a half-hearted “Screw you”.

“Maybe later.”

I can practically _feel_ him smiling behind me and I force down a nervous laugh. What’s with me today? Why can’t I snap out of it? Why is Eric’s touch so Goddamn persuasive? I’m already relaxing more and more, letting him show me how it’s done.

“You make sure your hand is steady and you’ve got an idea of where you want to the ball to land, yeah? Then you bend your knees slightly, keep your arm straight…”

We move forward and his hand steers my wrist, slender fingers gently wrapped around my arm, and at the same time that his chest presses into my back, a familiar song comes trickling out of the room speakers.

“Is that…?”

“Bronski beat,” I fill him in, yup, that’s Smalltown Boy, alright. Is the music guy watching us or something? Is there even a music guy or is fate just smiling down at us?

When I look around, it seems we’ve caught some youngsters’ attention, they’re studying us curiously. I remind myself that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, that not _everyone_ is a homophobic asshole, and I concentrate on Eric, on his insistent touch. On Jimmy’s soothing voice and the lulling beat of the song.

“Pay them no mind. Just focus…” Eric trails off, giggles.

“... on the ball.”

“Hilarious,” I reply, feeling a bit cold when Eric lets go of me and steps back.

“Are you ready?” I nod, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

This time, I keep Eric’s words in mind, bend my knees, move forward, and concentrate on the pin in the front as I set the ball in motion. I watch with bated breath as it knocks down pin after pin, until there’s none left and the deck is wiped clean. I can hear cheers from an uninvited audience behind me and turn around to see people clapping, as well as Eric, who’s smiling widely at me. My heart skips a beat.

“Told you you could do it!”

* * *

“I should never have shown you my technique, you’re beating me now!” laughs Eric, now on his tenth and final round. 

We’re two points apart, both having scored five strikes each, and a whole crowd has gathered to watch us. Lord knows _why_ , don’t they have games of their own to play? But “The more the merrier,” as Eric had said when I whispered that they were creeping me out. And I suppose, in a sense, that he’s right. Besides, it’s our first date, I have a goal to achieve, and I’ll be damned if I let a group of high schoolers and elders fuck that up for me.

Yet another strike for Eric, who grins smugly at me as I grab my ball, whispering: “You’ve got to get nine points or more to win, Champ. Good luck.”

He settles back to watch me, and I stare down at the ball. To the pins at the end of the lane and back to the ball. Determination is pumping through my veins. _I can do this,_ I tell myself. And I put the ball on spin, the entire scene moving in slow motion as it ends up in the very middle of the cluster of pins, knocking down seven, eight, no, _nine_ pins… Now there’s only left, wobbling like crazy for what feels like half an hour before it, too, goes down, and I jump into the air. Victory is mine!

I can hear everyone applauding for me, and I turn around to give them a bow, the adrenaline rush of having won unreal. But more than that, Eric is beaming at me, approaching me to give me a congratulatory hug. That’s when I throw caution to the wind, taking his face in my hands and pressing my lips against his. The cheers around us falter for a brief moment, before somehow getting even louder, but the background quickly fades as I wrap my arms around Eric’s waist, lifting him up in the air and I kiss him senseless before I’m satisfied. When I pull back, his eyes are blown and unfocused and he leans his forehead against mine.

“I thought _you_ were the one winning here, so why does it feel like I just did?”

“You can award me back home if you want to,” I say, quietly and only to Eric, aware that we’re not entirely alone.

But most of the crowd has dispersed at this point, save for a few stragglers who’re still gawking on at us. I ignore them.

“You’d be so lucky,” Eric says, although it doesn’t have to mean it’s _entirely_ out of the question.

He looks proud of me, and _I’m_ kind of proud of _myself_ , too. I grab Eric’s hand and we walk to the main entrance to pay and get these hideous shoes off.

“Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this fic, I hope it shows! I've been listening to "First Date" non-stop the last few days, thought of my boys in Sex Ed and was like "HmmMm..." and that's how this came to be, lmao. I really hope you liked it! :)


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